The Stressful Life of Severus Snape
by The Atomic Cafe
Summary: AU On the night of the Potter's death, Sirius goes to seek Harry. He finds a group of Death Eaters, is paralysed, and he and Harry are sent to be cared for by Snape. Plot Bunny from Tasogare no hime.
1. Chapter One

**DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

_We are the hollow men _

_We are the stuffed men_

_Leaning together_

_Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!_

_Our dried voices, when_

_We whisper together_

_Are quiet and meaningless_

_As wind in dry grass_

_Or rats' feet over broken glass_

_In our dry cellar._

_Shape without form, shade without colour,_

_Paralysed force, gesture without motion;_

_Those who have crossed _

_With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom_

_Remember us – if at all – not as lost_

_Violent souls, but only_

_As the hollow men_

_The stuffed men._

_Eyes I dare not meet in dreams _

_In death's dream kingdom_

_These do not appear:_

_There, the eyes are_

_Sunlight on a broken column_

_There, is a tree swinging_

_And voices are_

_In the wind's singing_

_More distant and more solemn_

_Than a fading star._

_Let me be no nearer_

_In death's dream kingdom_

_Let me also wear_

_Such deliberate disguises_

_Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves_

_In a field _

_Behaving as the wind behaves_

_No nearer-_

_Not that final meeting_

_In the twilight kingdom._

_October 31, 1981_

_Hallows Eve_

Gravel bit into his hand and he clenched a fist into the dirt and rubble surrounding him. A trickle of blood feel onto the ground, but he ignored everything around him but two bodies feet away from him.

Both wore looks of pure horror. The woman's red hair was flared around her face like a red frame surrounding the pale and beautiful face of Lily Potter. The male's glasses were a foot away from his face. Black hair was coated in a fine layer of soot, intensing the color to a darker shade.

The sun was setting into a rich red and pink while Sirius Black stared into the faces of two of his best friends.

"Damn the little rat," he choked through tears. He shut his eyes, trying to rid himself of the image of James and Lily. Hot tears fell onto the hand that was now coated in black. "Damn that little –"Before he finished, another image floated to mind: a small child of about a year of age with black hair like his father's. Green eyes were wide and smooth like his mother's.

Sirius stood up quickly and felt his now numb leg drag on the ground. He ignored the shooting pain like needles and ran to where the nursery would have been if the large house had been whole again.

Red shards covered the area and Sirius had to turn away with a hand to his face. Harry would be dead if he wasn't there. But-

A scream pierced the chill air. The dark-haired man ran to where the noise came from. In Lily's arms was a bundle of blankets. Sirius carefully peeled them away and peek in the hole.

Harry stopped crying and looked at Sirius curiously. Blood trickled down his forehead onto his nose. Sirius peeled off his jacket and used it to wipe Harry clean. The child wrapped his small arms around Sirius' neck and buried his face into Sirius' shirt collar.

"It looks like I'll have to take you with me, Harry," he muttered quietly. Harry snuggled deeper and gave a hiccup. "I'll have to do something with you for now. First I need to kill that –"He took a deep breath. "Remus can take you for now. I have some business to attend to."

Talking to Harry was like talking to himself. He felt Harry understand, but Harry never answered or paid any mind to what Sirius said. At the time, Sirius was glad of this.

Walking down the brick walkway, Sirius took out his wand to make sure nothing could attack them.

"Sirius!" Sirius whipped around and his eyes darted around to find the gruff voice that called. A giant outline of a man strode forward, an umbrella in hand.

"Hagrid?" Sirius called back, sure that only the half-giant could make such an outline.

"Where are yeh?" He muttered something and his umbrella produced a faint light. "I wouldn't mind if yeh don't tell Dumbledore 'bout this," he added, pointing to the pink umbrella. Sirius, still shocked, nodded.

"What are you doing here?"

"Dumbledore sent me ter get Harry to his relatives." Sirius' eyes widened.

"But –"He pushed his black hair out of his eyes and thought. "I'm his godfather. Shouldn't I take him?"

Hagrid only shook his head. "Professor Dumbledore asked me to bring him ter his relatives."

"I can take him Hagrid," Sirius snapped. This was starting to annoy him. Harry was his godson, meaning that if anything happened to Lily and James, Harry was Sirius'. Dumbledore had no right to mess with that!

"Please, Sirius. Professor Dumbledore said ter –"

There was no way around this. "Alright, Hagrid. Just, please, take –take good care of him. And –"he glanced at his moterbike "- take it. I won't be needing it." He pointed to it and cast a sad look at the muggle bike. With a casual movement, he tossed the keys to the giant man.

"You won't be needing that," came a voice from somewhere. "Hand over the child and noone will get hurt."

Sirius turned around and pointed his wand into the face of a masked woman. She smirked, pulled off the white mask that belonged in the opera, and Sirius' gaze hardened.

Bellatrix Lestrange glared at him through lidded eyes. Her black hair, due to the wind, covered half her face and she wore black robes. Behind her, nearly twenty cloaked figures had their wands out.

"Hand him over," she repeated in a deadly hiss, "and no one gets hurt."

There was a moment's indesision before Sirius yelled, "Hagrid, take Harry and leave quick!" Hagrid ran, reflecting the spells without the use of a wand, and jumped on the large moterbike, which expanded and he managed to fly off on it into the cloudy sky. Sirius didn't look to see where he went.

"Avada Ked-" Sirius was ready for Bellatrix's spell. The dodged to the side, roared, "Silencio," and ducked behind a large rock. She made a movement with he arm and the hoard of Death Eaters started fireing spells. Sirius was hoarse long before he could deflect all the spells. He hoped he would be able to live this to see Harry again.

Then, a jet of light hit him in the back and he reeled over.

Bellatrix approached him and all the rest of the Death Eaters stopped fireing.

Sirius felt unmistakeable pain. His back, legs, and toes wouldn't work and the rest of him felt tired. He wanted to sleep very badly...

When he attempted to lift his arm to stun Bellatrix, his eyes went out of focus and he felt even better. With a mumble, he fell into unconciousness.

_This is the dead land_

_This is the cactus land_

_Here the stone images_

_Are raised, here they receive_

_The supplication of a dead man's hand_

_Under the twinkle of a fading star._

_Is it like this_

_In death's other kingdom_

_Waking alone_

_At the hour when we are_

_Trembling with tenderness_

_Lips that would kiss_

_Form prayers to broken stone._

_The eyes are not here_

_There are no eyes here_

_In this valley of dying stars_

_In this hallow valley_

_This broken jaw of our lost kingdom._

_In this last of meeting places_

_We grope together_

_And avoid speech_

_Gathered on this beach of the tumid river_

_Sightless, unless_

_The eyes reappear_

_As the perpetual star_

_Multifoliate rose_

_Of death's other kingdom_

_The hope only_

_Of empty men._

_November 23, 1981_

"I see that you heard about our dear Potions Master retiring after this year?" Dumbledore asked, smiling at the man sitting in front of him.

Severus Snape just nodded curtly. The Headmaster took a few minutes to stare at his former student. He was now very tall, but still had the same features as he did as a child. Raven hair, rather long but it fit his thin, pale face. He wore black robes, and Dumbledore wondered if he had ever worn any other color. Maybe Snape was colorblind? Dumbledore quicky expelled this thought.

"Yes, but that's not why I'm here." Dumbledore thought about Snape's voice. It changed only a little. As a child, the man had the same velvety and dangerous voice like a hiss, but it was a bit more high-pitched.

"What are you here for then, Severus?"

"I heard that your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor has had a... tramatic incident."

That was an understatement. Dumbledore winced as he remembered the man being slaughtered by one of the Herbology plants. His arm would never be the same.

"I would like to apply for the position." This snapped Dumbledore out of his thoughts in a painful bump.

"But you were always wonderful with potions. And we do need a new Potions Master. I remember that, when you were younger, you would talk and t-"

"You obviously remember wrong, Headmaster. I've always wished to be a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor." He leaned in a bit closer. " Is there a reason for why you are trying to change my mind?"

Dumbledore cleared his throat. He was usually a very calm and collected man, but this would be rather hard to explain. "Severus, you were once a – a-"

"Death Eater," Snape finished calmly.

"Yes, and I don't think it's best for you to teach children about defending yourself from the Dark Arts when you yourself have allied with them." There, it was all out.

"I was younger and foolish." The last word came out pained, as if Snape had long lost the habit of admitting his faults.

"All the same, Severus. I think it would be for the better if you are a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. I think it would be all for the best."

"You don't trust me," Snape mused. Dumbledore noted the faint, almost indetectable trace of pain lingering about each word.

"I trust you, Severus. Why would I not? Lord Voldemort has fallen for now, though I have the feeling that is not the last we will ever see of Tom Riddle. You are now on our side, and I have your word for it. I can trust you. So, I will accept you as a Potions Master this year, and you are to start next week, if that is fine with you. Feel free to start moving in soon. And, we will be needing a new Head of Slytherin. Would you care to take up that position?"

"Of course," Snape agreed, nodding slightly. He stood, shook Dumbledore's hand, and walked out of the room, robes sweeping behind him. Dumbledore closed the door and sat down, head in his hands for a moment.

Since when could one of his past students make him feel – feel old. He felt as if there was something frightening lingering about the room, and he found himself checking the room for the feeling of dread.

"Looking for something?" came a silky voice from behind him. He jumped to see Phineas Nigellus raising an eyebrow while leaning carelessly on his frame. Dumbledore stared for a moment at the Slytherin ex-headmaster and shook his head.

"No, I'm perfectly fine. I was just thinking of going to sleep anyway." He turned to his room. "Good night, Phineas."

_Here we go round the prickly pear_

_Prickly pear prickly pear_

_Here we go round the prickly pear _

_At five o'clock in the morning_

_Between the idea_

_And the reality_

_Between the motion_

_And the act_

_Falls the shadow_

_For Thine is the Kingdom_

_Between the conception _

_And the creation_

_Between the emotion_

_And the response_

_Falls the Shadow_

_Life is very long_

_Between the desire_

_And the spasm_

_Between the potency_

_And the existence_

_Between the essence _

_And the decent_

_Falls the Shadow_

_For Thine is the Kingdom_

_For Thine is_

_Life is_

_For Thine is the_

_This is the way the world ends_

_This is the way the world ends_

_This is the way the world ends_

_Not with a bang but a whimper._

_**-T. S. Elliot, The Hollow Men**_

**Feel free to leave a review. Thank you for reading.**


	2. Chapter Two

_Twelve o'clock._

_Along the reaches of the street_

_Held in lunar synthesis,_

_Whispering lunar incantations_

_Dissolve the floors of memory_

_And all its clear relations_

_Its divisions and precisions,_

_Every street lamp that I pass_

_Beats like a fatalistic drum,_

_And through the spaces of the dark_

_Midnight shakes the memory _

_As a madman shakes a dead geranium._

_Half-past one,_

_The street-lamp sputtered,_

_The street-lamp muttered,_

_The street-lamp said, "Regard that woman_

_Who hesitates toward you in the light of the door_

_Which opens on her like a grin._

_You see the border of her dress_

_Is torn and stained with sand,_

_And you see the corner of her eyes_

_Twists like a crooked pin."_

_The memory throws up high and dry_

_A crowd of twisted things;_

_A twisted branch upon the beach_

_Eaten smooth, and polished_

_As if the world gave up_

_The secret of its skeleton,_

_Stiff and white._

_A broken spring in a factory yard,_

_Rust that clings to the form that the strength has left_

_Hard and curled and ready to snap._

_November 19, 1981_

Catherine Morris smoothed the covers of the white hospital bed yet again as she bustled bout the room. The Healer of Saint Mungos was still surprised, even after two years of being a healer, that room could get so messy even when the occupant was unconscious or in a different state of mind.

Sirius Black was still sleeping. How much of a difference was that compared to yesterday? Catherine noted that he was turned on his right side, one arm stretched upward into a pillow, the other shielding his pale face. His mouth was slightly open. That would be three Knuts won from Margaret. The betting on how patients were sleeping for a day was starting to add into wallets.

One month quickly passed since Sirius' attempt to rescue Harry from falling into the care of whomever Dumbledore had chosen. Sirius was still unconscious from the fight with his own cousin.

A soft knock sounded at the door and Catherine quickly spun around. Albus Dumbledore smiled at her and she grinned back. Memories of three years ago came to mind. She had been a Hufflepuff naturally- intelligent but more loyal.

"May I visit Mr. Black?"

"There's no point, Headmaster," she answered, looking at Sirius. His arm twitched slightly. "He hasn't woken yet. However, we have been trying to get him to drink an energy potion, which should help him.

"Still, I would like to, Miss Morris." She nodded, fixed the vase on the bedside table, and walked swiftly out. Dumbledore shut the door after her.

Taking a seat next to the bed on a red chair, he kept his eyes trained on Sirius. The dark-haired man twitched suddenly, and there was a slight groan. His gray eyes opened slightly, blinked a few times, and widened.

"Where am I?" he asked. He tried to sit up, but groaned in pain, Dumbledore's hand instinctively flew to the call button one pressed when someone was ill, but paused as Sirius nestled back into the cover of the blankets. "Who are you?"

"Albus Dumbledore," he replied nonchalantly. From his experience with students passing out, he was used to that question starting their recovery.

"Who?" Sirius replied faintly, squinting at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore repeated his name, but broke off halfway through. "Can you remember who you are?" he asked, worrying.

Sirius's eyebrows wrinkled as he thought. His bottom lip disappeared into his teeth, and he answered slowly, "I'm not sure."

_Half-past two,_

_The street-lamp said,_

"_Remark the cat which flattens itself in the gutter,_

_35_

_Slips out its tongue_

_And devours a morsel of rancid butter."_

_So the hand of the child, automatic,_

_Slipped out and pocketed a toy that was running along the quay._

_I could see nothing behind that child's eye._

_40_

_I have seen eyes in the street_

_Trying to peer through lighted shutters,_

_And a crab one afternoon in a pool,_

_An old crab with barnacles on his back,_

_Gripped the end of a stick which I held him._

_45_

_Half-past three,_

_The lamp sputtered,_

_The lamp muttered in the dark._

_The lamp hummed:_

"_Regard the moon,_

_50_

_La lune ne garde aucune rancune,_

_She winks a feeble eye,_

_She smiles into corners._

_She smooths the hair of the grass._

_The moon has lost her memory._

_55_

_A washed-out smallpox cracks her face,_

_Her hand twists a paper rose,_

_That smells of dust and eau de Cologne,_

_She is alone_

_With all the old nocturnal smells_

_60_

_That cross and cross across her brain."_

_The reminiscence comes_

_Of sunless dry geraniums_

_And dust in crevices,_

_Smells of chestnuts in the streets,_

_65_

_And female smells in shuttered rooms,_

_And cigarettes in corridors_

_And cocktail smells in bars._

_The lamp said,_

"_Four o'clock,_

_70_

_Here is the number on the door._

_Memory!_

_You have the key,_

_The little lamp spreads a ring on the stair._

_Mount._

_75_

_The bed is open; the tooth-brush hangs on the wall,_

_Put your shoes at the door, sleep, prepare for life."_

_The last twist of the knife._

November 19, 1981 

Dumbledore walked quickly up the walk between the gates to Hogwarts. He did not bother with the thestrals, and was set on talking to their newly acquired professor, Severus Snape.

Luckily for him, the walk was cut off by a black cloaked figure walking into him.

"Headmaster," Severus acknowledged, inclining his head slightly.

"Severus," Dumbledore quickly responded. "I need to ask you a favor." _It is best for Sirius, _he thought, trying to control his thoughts. _And Harry. Think about Harry. _His mind switched to Harry, who was with his aunt and uncle now, in Surrey. _It's only one question. And it's only to Severus. And hopefully he won't remember the past… as Sirius can't._

"You heard about the attack on Sirius when he was trying to find Harry Potter at Godric's Hallow." This was merely stated, not asked. Snape froze, eyes foxed on Dumbledore.

"Yes, I do," he answered in an odd voice.

"Then you know that a curse was inflicted upon Sirius by his cousin." Snape nodded again, clearly wondering where this was going.

Dumbledore took a breath. "I have just gone to visit Mr. Black. So far, he seems in perfectly good health. Well, physically. However, I noticed something as he and I were conversing.

He took in a gulp of air as Snape raised an eyebrow, clearly wondering what could have happened to his rival.

"He has amnesia, Severus."

Poem by T. S. Eliot


	3. Chapter Three

_Because I do not hope to turn again  
Because I do not hope  
Because I do not hope to turn  
Desiring this man's gift and that man's scope  
I no longer strive to strive towards such things  
(Why should the aged eagle stretch its wings?)  
Why should I mourn  
The vanished power of the usual reign? _

_Because I do not hope to know again  
The infirm glory of the positive hour  
Because I do not think  
Because I know I shall not know  
The one veritable transitory power  
Because I cannot drink  
There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is nothing again _

_Because I know that time is always time  
And place is always and only place  
And what is actual is actual only for one time  
And only for one place  
I rejoice that things are as they are and  
I renounce the blessed face  
And renounce the voice  
Because I cannot hope to turn again  
Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something  
Upon which to rejoice _

_And pray to God to have mercy upon us  
And pray that I may forget  
These matters that with myself I too much discuss  
Too much explain  
Because I do not hope to turn again  
Let these words answer  
For what is done, not to be done again  
May the judgement not be too heavy upon us _

_Because these wings are no longer wings to fly  
But merely vans to beat the air  
The air which is now thoroughly small and dry  
Smaller and dryer than the will  
Teach us to care and not to care  
Teach us to sit still. _

_Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death  
Pray for us now and at the hour of our death. _

Snape's eyebrows contracted as he stared at Dumbledore for a moment, trying to see into his mind, scanning the newly formed materials. Dumbledore made no movement to stop him from doing so. Snape pulled out after watching the memory flash before his eyes as if it were his own.

Dumbledore's blue eyes looked severe now, and Snape studied them for a moment before snapping, "You cannot possibly be telling the truth." His voice betrayed his opinion, though, as even he could hear the shock echoing.

"I'm afraid it is true." Dumbledore sighed and pulled out his watch. "It's getting rather late, Severus. We can continue this conversation tomorrow morning." Snape wordlessly nodded, turned, and headed back to the castle.

He paused and let Dumbledore pass him. His black eyes grazed over the castle a few times as memories spun around his head, starring himself and Black.

_"Hey, Severus," the black haired boy smirked. His gray eyes looked Snape over a few times before returning to his eyes. "How'd you manage to get to Hogwarts? Bribe Dumbledore?"_

_The other dark haired boy next to Black grinned and laughed for a second. Snape's thought turned to him and he automatically decided that the boy was not to be trusted._

_Another boy was tagging along beside them. He sniggered into the arm of his robe. Blonde hair clung to his round face as all were soaking wet from the boat ride to Hogwarts castle. Watery eyes shimmered in delight. The blonde one was also trouble._

_A few feet away, a tall girl with long red hair rolled her eyes. She looked very pale, as if terrified by the sorting that was yet to come. Her jaw was still clenched tight, as though determined to get through her first year. Snape settled on her being a muggle-born. He would stay clear of her._

_Next to her, a light brown haired boy was trying to steer away from the fight. He had his arms crossed and seemed to by seeing how hard it was to sink into a wall and disappear. Snape knew the feeling. The boy's brown eyes flickered over to him, and quickly shot away, admiring a picture on a wall._

_The group of first years were led into the large hall were students sat before them. Behind were the teachers. Dumbledore's eyes scanned the group, and Snape raised his head slightly. _

_The ceiling was first to catch his eye. Stars trickled into the dark blue, and he felt himself sink into a dream. Nothing was real anymore. No students were near him… nothing could hurt him… those three boys weren't alive, or at least in Europe…._

_When his eyes snapped back into focus, he sturdied himself and listened for what name they were on._

_"Sirius Black!" The tall witch with a dark bun placed high on her head lifted the old patched hat and placed it on the boy's head. Sirius Black was his name? Snape made a note to remember what a foul and horrible name it was._

_"GRYFFINDOR!" Ah, and he was now a Gryffindor? Vague memories of the name swam past him. A Slytherin family. Pity that a member was wasted on Gryffindor._

_But, even as he passed to get to the table of black- robed students, Snape felt a small pang of jealously rise from his stomache._

The Professor made his way up to the doors and followed the Headmaster. The conversation would wait until tomorrow.

_II_

_Lady, three white leopards sat under a juniper-tree  
In the cool of the day, having fed to sateity  
On my legs my heart my liver and that which had been contained  
In the hollow round of my skull. And God said  
Shall these bones live? shall these  
Bones live? And that which had been contained  
In the bones (which were already dry) said chirping:  
Because of the goodness of this Lady  
And because of her loveliness, and because  
She honours the Virgin in meditation,  
We shine with brightness. And I who am here dissembled  
Proffer my deeds to oblivion, and my love  
To the posterity of the desert and the fruit of the gourd.  
It is this which recovers  
My guts the strings of my eyes and the indigestible portions  
Which the leopards reject. The Lady is withdrawn  
In a white gown, to contemplation, in a white gown.   
Let the whiteness of bones atone to forgetfulness.  
There is no life in them. As I am forgotten  
And would be forgotten, so I would forget  
Thus devoted, concentrated in purpose. And God said   
Prophesy to the wind, to the wind only for only  
The wind will listen. And the bones sang chirping  
With the burden of the grasshopper, saying _

_Lady of silences  
Calm and distressed  
Torn and most whole  
Rose of memory  
Rose of forgetfulness  
Exhausted and life-giving   
Worried reposeful  
The single Rose  
Is now the Garden   
Where all loves end  
Terminate torment  
Of love unsatisfied   
The greater torment  
Of love satisfied  
End of the endless   
Journey to no end  
Conclusion of all that  
Is inconclusible   
Speech without word and  
Word of no speech  
Grace to the Mother  
For the Garden  
Where all love ends. _

_Under a juniper-tree the bones sang, scattered and shining  
We are glad to be scattered, we did little good to each other,  
Under a tree in the cool of the day, with the blessing of sand,  
Forgetting themselves and each other, united  
In the quiet of the desert. This is the land which ye  
Shall divide by lot. And neither division nor unity  
Matters. This is the land. We have our inheritance. _

A cup of tea sat before Snape at the smallest table in the Great Hall. He was staring into it, thinking about what type of news Dumbledore would report? The world being taken over by mutant socks? Snape couldn't suppress the snort he gave up. If Sirius Black losing his memory was possible….

Footsteps alerted him that someone else was entering. Now, in December, very few students would be at the castle. When he looked up, a teacher was entering. Flitwick was hard to see at a tall height, but Snape recognized him.

Flitwick took a seat at the table, a few seats from Snape. As he picked out a sausage, he turned to talk with Professor Vector. Snape averted his gaze and stared at the door where Dumbledore would be coming from.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Dumbledore returned. He had been talking with Hagrid a little while before, mainly about the thestrals, which were killing a few owls. Hagrid responded that he would continue training them. He entered a few minutes later, shaking snow off him.

"We shall speak later," Dumbledore murmured to Snape, winking. He managed a feeble grin, thoughts still lost.

_III_

_At the first turning of the second stair  
I turned and saw below  
The same shape twisted on the banister  
Under the vapour in the fetid air  
Struggling with the devil of the stairs who wears  
The deceitul face of hope and of despair. _

_At the second turning of the second stair  
I left them twisting, turning below;  
There were no more faces and the stair was dark,   
Damp, jagged, like an old man's mouth drivelling, beyond repair,   
Or the toothed gullet of an aged shark. _

_At the first turning of the third stair  
Was a slotted window bellied like the figs's fruit  
And beyond the hawthorn blossom and a pasture scene  
The broadbacked figure drest in blue and green   
Enchanted the maytime with an antique flute.  
Blown hair is sweet, brown hair over the mouth blown,  
Lilac and brown hair;   
Distraction, music of the flute, stops and steps of the mind over the third stair,  
Fading, fading; strength beyond hope and despair   
Climbing the third stair. _

_Lord, I am not worthy  
Lord, I am not worthy  
but speak the word only. _

Snape waited patiently in the staff room. Classes had just ended for the day, and only two other teachers were in the staff room. He sat in a low chair in the corner, ignoring the conversation McGonagall and Sprout were having. After ten minutes, he wondered whether Dumbledore had forgotten or if –

"Glad to see you here, Severus," Dumbledore greeted, sitting in a chair next to his. McGonagall and Sprout looked up at Dumbledore's voice and, with another word or two, quickly left the room.

Severus looked at Dumbledore for a moment, trying to see what he was planning on mentioning. There could not possibly be something bad going on that he needed help with this early in the year. And why ask him? Severus raised an eyebrow to himself, which was a very hard thing to mentally do. Maybe this had to do with Potter, or Lupin, or worse – Black.

His worse fears were confirmed when the conversation started with: "I'm sure you remember young Sirius Black from school?" Dumbledore tilted his head, popping a small yellow candy into his mouth. Severus nodded grudgingly and inwardly rolled his eyes. How wonderful. Nothing ever went well when Dumbledore was eating candy- especially muggle candy.

_IV_

_Who walked between the violet and the violet  
Who walked between  
The various ranks of varied green  
Going in white and blue, in Mary's colour,  
Talking of trivial things  
In ignorance and knowledge of eternal dolour  
Who moved among the others as they walked,  
Who then made strong the fountains and made fresh the springs _

_Made cool the dry rock and made firm the sand  
In blue of larkspur, blue of Mary's colour,  
Sovegna vos _

_Here are the years that walk between, bearing  
Away the fiddles and the flutes, restoring  
One who moves in the time between sleep and waking, wearing _

_White light folded, sheathing about her, folded.  
The new years walk, restoring  
Through a bright cloud of tears, the years, restoring   
With a new verse the ancient rhyme. Redeem  
The time. Redeem   
The unread vision in the higher dream  
While jewelled unicorns draw by the gilded hearse. _

_The silent sister veiled in white and blue  
Between the yews, behind the garden god,  
Whose flute is breathless, bent her head and signed but spoke no word _

_But the fountain sprang up and the bird sang down  
Redeem the time, redeem the dream  
The token of the word unheard, unspoken _

_Till the wind shake a thousand whispers from the yew _

_And after this our exile _

Dumbledore kept the candy in his mouth for a moment, stalling, not chewing. It took a moment before he spoke to Severus.

"He is ill, you remember I told you. And – and I need you to do me a small favor."

Severus did not like how this was going. Anything that had 'Black' and 'favor' in the same sentence would rival only death and misery. But then, 'Black' and 'favor' were death and misery.

"Yes, Headmaster?" Severus inquired as politely as possible, his tongue planted firmly between his clenched teeth. "Any favor you would wish."

"I need you to take care of him."

The words were quick and sudden like a knife through the heart. Actually, Severus noted, I would rather a knife through the heart than this. Was Dumbledore joking? Severus searched his eyes and saw no trace of a joke. That was the thing about Dumbledore. He made jokes, he was a funny man, but he never made jokes when you wanted him to.

"I mean, after he is out of Saint Mungos, of course. That will be in about three days if I can get him out. And one more thing."

"Yes?" Severus managed from gritted teeth, his eye threatening to twitch.

"I need you care for young Potter."

Severus really did feel several muscles move around his face. There was one thing worse than 'Black' and 'favor': 'Potter, Black, favor.' Of course, 'Potter, Black, Lupin, favor' rivaled that, but this was bad enough….

"Yes, Headmaster."

"Thank you."

It was that innocence in Dumbledore's eyes again. Was it the blue color? Or the twinkle? Or the voice? Whatever it was, Severus thought about ripping the offending body part out and stomping on it.

_V_

_If the lost word is lost, if the spent word is spent  
If the unheard, unspoken  
Word is unspoken, unheard;  
Still is the unspoken word, the Word unheard,  
The Word without a word, the Word within   
The world and for the world;  
And the light shone in darkness and  
Against the Word the unstilled world still whirled  
About the centre of the silent Word. _

_O my people, what have I done unto thee. _

_Where shall the word be found, where will the word  
Resound? Not here, there is not enough silence  
Not on the sea or on the islands, not   
On the mainland, in the desert or the rain land,  
For those who walk in darkness  
Both in the day time and in the night time   
The right time and the right place are not here  
No place of grace for those who avoid the face  
No time to rejoice for those who walk among noise and deny the voice _

_Will the veiled sister pray for  
Those who walk in darkness, who chose thee and oppose thee,  
Those who are torn on the horn between season and season, time and time, between  
Hour and hour, word and word, power and power, those who wait  
In darkness? Will the veiled sister pray  
For children at the gate  
Who will not go away and cannot pray:  
Pray for those who chose and oppose _

_O my people, what have I done unto thee. _

_Will the veiled sister between the slender  
Yew trees pray for those who offend her  
And are terrified and cannot surrender  
And affirm before the world and deny between the rocks  
In the last desert before the last blue rocks  
The desert in the garden the garden in the desert  
Of drouth, spitting from the mouth the withered apple-seed. _

_O my people. _

_-T.S. Eliot_


End file.
